


Rest is Still Unwritten

by goodnightPidge



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Book of Dares AU, Christmas, F/M, High School, Strangers to Lovers, Tags May Change, You Will Not Escape the Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-01 07:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12699867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightPidge/pseuds/goodnightPidge
Summary: Pidge accidentally leaves her diary in the library and a stranger finds it. And this stranger does the only normal thing to do in such a situation. He writes in it and initiates an anonymous relationship between the two.





	1. Keith

**Author's Note:**

> My favorite thing in the world is making Pidge look like she has an endless list of problems (you're welcome). But sorry, the only things I've posted so far really make her look miserable. But really, who ISN'T miserable? Anyways, I really wanted to play around with this ship since... nothing extremely canon is shown about Keith and Pidge. A challenge but it makes for fun writting. I decided to play around with the premise coming from one of my favorite book series (Dash and Lily: Book of Dares). Hope you enjoy this short chapter!

_ 18th of November: _

“What the hell do you mean I’m fired?” Keith blew at the towering man.

“Your vulgar mouth is what I mean. That attitude is disgusting, and I do not need it infecting my family friendly restaurant,” His boss fired back.

“Look. I need this job-”

“Keith, if you really needed this job you wouldn’t be skipping your shifts every two minutes and would actually show some type of commitment to your life!”

Keith rolled his eyes. In all honesty, he didn’t really care much for the restaurant but some extra money was much appreciated. If it wasn't for his barely-hanging-on morals and Shiro's disapproval, he could've easily been a stripper or something. He has an okay body type for that type of thing. Too bad he was only seventeen. 

Or hey, he guesses he could've also been a drug dealer. They get mad bucks, fast too. Too bad that's also illegal and totally not in his department of capabilities. He can be quite the rebel (according to authority and teachers) but he's not _that_  damaged. 

Either way, what he did for a partial living wasn't something he worried about often. His priority wasn’t work. His priority was his foster brother, Shiro. 

With the short year and a half he had known Shiro, Keith was able to see a lot of dark sides to him that he doesn't show to many people. He was in a plane crash last Christmas, on his ride back from Japan, and it took a long time for him to recover and accept the reality of his arm. Much later, Shiro had depression and PTSD.

Shiro's pain sort of panged over to Keith, as it started to hurt a lot seeing Shiro in such a despairing demeanor. Keith dropped out of high school to help out Shiro as much as he could. Some days, Keith wouldn't even goto his foster home (Shiro's parents' home) and he would simply stay over at Shiro's. Keith stayed over so many times that there was a specified mattress just for Keith to sleep on.

However, nearly a year after Shiro had lost his arm, Keith still felt obligated to be around often to help Shiro adjust; no matter how many times Shiro had to tell him that Keith didn’t have to worry about him.

Additionally Shiro's apartment was an hour away, and Keith never really had the urge to call in work and say that he’s going to miss his job shift for the 7th time that week.

Insert excuse number ten.

But alright, sure. He’ll give it to his boss that skipping work was an asshole move. Moves.

His boss continued more softly, “Look. I can’t give you any more money, obviously. At this point, the only thing I can give you is some well developed advice from an actual grown-up:

Keith didn’t want to hear it, but he waited for the blunt criticism anyways,

“Stop trying to act grown up. You don’t know what you want in life, but you need to find it _fast._ Find an incentive. Whatever gets you going, whatever gets you hard. Just SOMETHING,”

The door then slapped in Keith’s face.

* *

It was November 18th, in the chilling the streets of Bemesfeder, New York; A smaller, unknown city on the outskirts, with the less busier aspect of New York embedded into it.

Keith enjoyed the sort of silence that came with the outdoors. He's lived almost half of his life outside, so he considers the wildlife and outdoors as his true home. He felt big, powerful, and unstoppable. And being in a bigger city made him feel much smaller and insignificant with excessive consumerism altering the image of life.

He never understood it really. Materialism and all that. Some may see it as a way of adding character to… well, a character that wasn't even considered a real person to begin with, but instead was an embodiment of a stereotype, following the trends of mainstream media. To Keith however, every penny lost buying an unnecessary object is a shred of substance withering away. Things like phones, possessions, and obsessions ruined a person, Keith felt.

Being a homeless, abandoned orphan at one point could account for his dismissive attitude. He was so used to having just the ultimate necessities; A knife, food, water, and shelter - in that order. What more could you seriously _need?_

Which is why he, more or less, despises Christmas and it’s noisy bearing. How dare ye.

It was the epitome of giving "loved ones" more ways they can ruin their life. Like a cancer patient getting twelve more tumors on their already ruined body in one hour and doctors, surrounding the hospital bed, singing jolly songs all night long to show their merriness for the tragic situation - that's what Christmas was for Keith.

Each year it comes and each year Keith gains an extra strand of grey stress hair. It’d be his first time truly celebrating it this year (Shiro promised to show him what Christmas really embodied and Keith couldn't say no because Shiro threatened to throw away his knives if he didn't go. How's that for an incentive?) and he couldn’t be any more loathsome.

Thankfully, in these particular city streets, they celebrated the holiday on the actual month (unlike some cities in New York that just couldn’t _wait_ to pull out their Norway Spruces), so Keith enjoyed the quiet while he still could.

And he decided to help calm himself down from his prior encounter with his boss by heading down to his favorite library and reading up on a few books. One book in particular named, “Alien World Order” is something he reads quite often, and he swears it makes logical sense.

He walked into the familiar setting, overtaking his sense of scent with beautifully archaic books. The usual librarian, sitting behind the counter typing on his computer, looks from the corner and gives a disapproving grunt. Clearly aimed towards Keith.

The presumed brainiac was a taller blonde… (brunette? Keith doesn’t look at him a lot), who looked around twenty or so. Whenever Keith would come by the library, the man always gave him dirty looks for no clear reason. Keith did not know this man and he has not had one harming interaction with the stranger.

But he said nothing and moved into the non-fiction aisle nevertheless; conspiracy theories are absolutely non-fiction and he’s pleased to see them categorized as so.

The usual skim through the rows was conducted. A few eyebrow raises at some questionable titles, a few mental notes taken of books he’d check out later, a few titles he recognized from online, and a prominent, green reptile-scaled spine splitting in between the sea of books. Nothing out of the ordinary here - oh wait. Except for that last part.

Keith did a double take to focus in on the more glaring of book spines. There was no title trailing down nor was there a library number marking it. It made him curious. Curious as to why this book had a distinct texture compared to the laminated covers of the rest. He pulled it out and noticed immediately that it certainly felt newer than the other books. And as he turned to its front cover, there was no sign of a title nor any sort of image indicating the contents of the artifact. It was just a continuance of its reptilian texture.

“What?” Keith quietly whispered to himself, completely puzzled.

Looking more closely, it appeared to be a journal or a diary of some sort.

Now, Keith could easily sympathize with why a diary would be forgotten in the library; though he personally felt that the spilling of one’s overwhelming feelings should be done in the privacy of one’s home, accompanied with an array of comforting foods. But for a diary to be neatly stuck in a bookshelf! A shelf specifically made for books! It’s unlikely that this object was just accidentally forgotten in a bookshelf.

There was _purpose_ put into it. A reason of destiny even.

Keith did the only thing that a privacy-respecting, modest teenager would do. He read into the contents.

And he was disappointed to see that the first page were not filled with words usually found in a diary.

  * **Eggs**
  * **Green Beans**
  * **~~Chicken~~  (She keeps forgetting I’m a vegetarian)**
  * **Tomato Paste**
  * **More eggs (Jeez, MOM)**
  * **Weird but awesome spice that has the guy who wears an apron over that red and white shirt**
  * **Sugar**



An eyebrow was raised as to what this list was possibly making as a meal. And he briefly thought why they decided to choose to write this in a diary.

This went on for a couple of more pages, so Keith thought to just put the book away and stop being such a creep. But before he could, a sneak peek of the next page showcased something entirely different. It had paragraphs, actual paragraphs. He turned the page and confirmed his suspicions.

Actual sentences.

**So I just got yelled at by Matt because he says I’m not using this “diary” correctly and that I need to actually start writing down my problems in this thing... but what does he know?**

**What if all I think about is the inner makings of thick and chewy peanut-butter cookies? Huh? What if my biggest pre-adulthood crisis is if it’s all-purpose flour or organic flour that makes the biggest difference in banana bread? He has no position to direct whether I am a normal teen thinking normal teen things!**

**Except, all of those could possibly apply to what Hunk has in his glorious brain. That’s definitely not normal for anyone. But even with his (occasional) abnormal thought-processes, he’s more ordinary than I could ever be.**

**He’s a smart gourmand and mechanic and all, but man... it just seems that he’s got everything put together with a simple smile. Hunk’s such a ball of light and it can be such a blinding presence sometimes that I feel so overwhelmed a lot of the time. A great friend...**

Keith briefly imagined the scenario playing out in his head; imagining this writer pining over their best friend.

**I mean he even has a beautiful girlfriend, Shay, and that’s probably the epitome of being a wholesome teenager.**

Scratch that image.

**Me? I’m the inverted copy of an ordinary teenager. I mean I’m a girl and that's a definite start. But I’m not… girly? I’m more of a tomboy, and I prefer shopping for bigger motherboards and faster RAM sticks rather than shopping for clothes and makeup. I don’t go out and drink, smoke, do the nasty businesses like the others. And I wear the same color green with anything.**

**HECK. This book is even green! Ugh. See? Do you see my dilemma here, non-existent reader?**

**Incase everyone hasn’t noticed: I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t fit in. And I kind of want to fit in. But I mean- has anyone ever seen me wearing anything besides green? That’s weird.**

_Weird,_ yet mockingly fitting Riverdale reference made there. He’s starting to like this person- well girl now, he assumes- just by simple words written on paper.

**Besides the point…bleh. I’m getting tired of writing. I mean it’s not like this is helping anything. I’m writing to no one, and it just feels pointless. So maybe I should stop before I dive deep into my ACTUAL problems and just remind myself how real they are on paper.**

**Screw you, Matt. Therapy was way, WAY better than this. At least someone was actually there, pretending to listen. Here, I’m just talking to myself like I always do and reminding myself that ~~I have no friends~~ I’m a weirdo.**

**Oh my gosh, stop checking to see if I’m writing in my diary. Look, I’m writing. See? Don’t think I can’t see you Matt!! >:( ** 

And that was it. That was all the book had to offer Keith.

He’ll admit, it was a ride to get through; the jamble of thoughts adding on one after the other.

But something in him wanted to be there for this girl. This random stranger he didn’t care for less than ten minutes ago. Something that has never really occurred in Keith’s consciousness before.

Despite his cold demeanor, he has a soft spot for people in need. He actually does care, a lot. From Shiro, his foster brother who has went through the levels of hell with his incident and post trauma, to a girl having a minor, teenage crisis. He feels for her.

Keith dared himself to get involved somehow, for whatever reason. The empty seventy or so pages were just calling for a friend or even just a conversation. To not allow this diary to be abandoned in the trash or in the library. What better way than to show her that there is someone out there to awkwardly listen; sort of like a freelance therapist, though Keith has no extensive knowledge on the subject. Physical therapy is something he's more familiar with, but he can try this one time and be some sort of consultant in emotions.

So he sent her a sign, recognizing her lonely being.

Why? Well, he’ll tell himself that it’s because he will help anyone at the drop of a dime. That he’ll sacrifice himself. That he’ll put his life, his mental state, his purpose behind him to be of an assistance. To be of real use. To this anonymous writer going through rough times.

Part of that is true. But really, he’s just bored. And he's just wanting to entertain himself for a little bit. And he doesn't care of the consequence, though it's hard for him to imagine what sort of consequence is in store for him by him simply just writing a few words of encouragement.

Thus Keith wrote in the green reptilian-scaled diary.


	2. Pidge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! I'm so excited for this chapter. I was so unsure of what I would do with it last night, but then I thought through some things and I was able to finish writting it tonight. I'll admit, I'm a sucker for #hurtPidge. Because I know once I get her hurt, that I'll be able to fix her up and love her and remind her that she is a gem. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this longer chapter as much as I enjoyed writting.

_ 24th of November: _

If Pidge were to describe Fridays in one simple word, she’d say the word, “convenient”. The concept of a day where your work and stressors for the week is dropped off on a cliff is a masterful convenience. Bless the fellow who invented weekends and Fridays. 

Thanksgiving was coming up and there was no time for bullshit with Pidge. She had to get all the necessary food items for the dinner on Thursday and she isn’t the most certain that Matt is capable of running down to get them (Even though he works at the library in Bemesfeder only three times a week; perfectly capable of running down to the grocery store in his endless free time).

With her and Matt, however, it always came down to this: Matt having responsibilities and duties to take care of, and Pidge actually going through with such duties for him. She didn’t mind it, however (most of the time).

This time in particular, she’s pretty excited to go down to get the groceries. Any time she had an excuse to walk around her home city, she would take the chance. Especially around this time of year.

Gladstone, New York can get packed during the holidays because it was known for its annual, extravagant water balloon parade; where the kids just throw bouncy ten pound water balloons at each other and call it a good day. She never knew why that was a thing to begin with since it’s already cold in the winter and being hit by a water balloon just makes you colder - let alone it freaking hurts to get hit. There were other popular events as well, but Pidge has been forever scarred by the injury stricken to her leg after a particular incident in the fourth grade.

Either way, Christmas here was just… nice. More than nice in Pidge’s eyes.

It was a time for communion, bonding, and family. And if there was anything she loved more than Christmas, is that she loved Christmas parties. Parties that have sugar cookies, with peppermint frosting on top. Parties that called for different types of party games; like Uno, Monopoly, and Just Dance. Pidge tries to memorize every dance move to Time Warp on Just Dance, just so she can finally beat Matt and Hunk (one day).

And, let’s not forget the actual video games and mindful presents she got from her awesome parents. They ranged from little keychains, bought from all over the world, to a puppy; who is now a full grown dog named Bae Bae, living happily and joyfully as ever.

Indeed, every year it’s all just absolute delight and excitement. Joy to the _World!_

But she was getting ahead of herself. Pidge wasn’t grocery shopping for Christmas. Heck, it’s still November and she still had to get Thanksgiving out of the way. She very much didn’t agree with the concept of the occasion, but she chose to keep her mouth shut yet wide open for the feast to come; as her father would instruct.

First, she needed to see what her mom needed from the store.

**

“I’M HOOOOOME!” Pidge yelled out to the silent hallway, which was then accompanied by Bae Bae’s barking and her frantic, pattering paws.

“KATIE, DON’T YELL! I’M ON THE PHONE WITH YOUR UNCLE,” Her mom sent back.

In came her excited pet, and Pidge knelt down to rub her ears. She heard footsteps and half expected to see her mother come into view. But when she looked up, she saw her grandmother, Mrs. Ryner, instead.

“Hello my child,” her grandmother smiled glowingly.

“Hi grandma!” Pidge stood up to hug her favorite grandparent.

Her grandmother always liked addressing Pidge as her own child, even though that was false. Questionably, she always raves on about how each human is made up of the same cosmic dust and everyone and everything breathes in harmony (AKA, everyone’s related to each other).

So, in her eyes, Pidge is her own daughter as far as she was concerned. Not grandchild. Not her actual familial relation. But her _daughter._ And Pidge tried hard not to think about how zany and nonsensical that is, but Pidge nevertheless loved her for it.

Mrs. Ryner always had a way of making Pidge seem like she was more than just a computer geek. Constantly telling her that Pidge’s spiritual purpose was made to keep the Earth moving and whole. Though Pidge could care less about nature or the outdoors or all that stuff. She can stick with just computers forever, thank you very much.

“How was Guam?” Pidge said as she walked into the living room.

Mrs. Ryner followed, “I feel like the sun has really helped in making me feel younger. And the beaches had such beautiful sunsets. I’ll take you next summer,”

Pidge laughed, awkwardly, “Oh, we’ll see about that Grandma. But I’m probably vacationing to Italy with my brother next summer, so maybe we can reschedule?”

Her grandmother sunk a little, but continued on brightly.

As Pidge walked into the living room, she couldn’t help but notice the two ginormous suitcases and collection of toiletries and clothing laid about. Her heart sunk in a moment of realization,

“Are we moving?!”

And her mom finally got off the phone, saying a hushed goodbye. Then turned to her daughter,

“No Katie. Me and your father are just going to go to the UK for a little bit,”

Pidge exclaimed,

“Right before Christmas?!”

“Well sadly, this is a mandatory mission for your father and I, and we do not know how long it will take us. We’ll try our very best to make it before winter break,” Her mother said as she approached her. She bent down a bit to rub Pidge’s arm for encouragement.

“Don’t worry. We’ve got grandma here to look after you, since Matt has been quite busy lately,”

Pidge choked in amazement, “Busy? Busy staring at the clock. He hasn’t done anything ever since he graduated from college!”

That’s when her father walked in with a comment, “Actually, it seems that he’s had a bit of a romantic interest in the past few weeks. He’s been pretty occupied,”

“...How long have you known about this?” She felt a little hurt that everyone except her has known about Matt’s supposed love interest.

Actually, she felt hurt about a lot of things. There was a chance that her parents were not going to be here for Christmas for the first time ever; which doesn’t sit right with Pidge since it’s a _family_ thing.

And the fact that Matt has never talked to Pidge about his anonymous significant other, even though they talk every single day offended her as well. She’s going to have to have a chat with him later, and not a very happy chat with that.  

“That’s besides the point. Also, Uncle Slav’s going to come down in the next three weeks so that he can help you and Matt set up for the Christmas party,” Her father continued.

“ _Slav’s_ coming too?” This amount of news is just not doing it for her. Everything happening right now is extremely inconvenient.

Last time he was at a familial occasion was during Easter, where he could not stop elaborating on the most impossible and ridiculous scenarios; which he continued to do for the whole party to all of her poor family and friends.

Slav had pointed at her aunt’s pregnant belly and claimed that the baby had a .99995% chance of dying in a DUI related car accident at the age of nineteen; and a 1.22223% chance of the offspring catching STDs at an airport bathroom in California. Needless to say, he didn’t make for the best party guest since everyone at the party left with an annoyed expression and sour impression. She had a feeling that this Christmas party wouldn’t be any different.

She can feel her spirit of this year’s Christmas faltering a bit. But she remained overall positive for the year. Or atleast, she was trying.

Her father replied, “That’s _uncle_ Slav, for you. But I need you to keep your behavior…”

Then mumbled, “...and patience…”

Then continued normally, “in check. It’s going to be the first time where we’re not here to take care of everything, so I am counting on you to reorganize the house and set up for a fantastic Christmas party. We’re leaving after Thanksgiving,”

By the sour look on Pidge’s face, her mother chimed in attempting to change the subject, “Speaking of Thanksgiving, I need some food for Thursday, so could you go down to the store today? Make sure you write this down,”

Pidge nodded, “Alright, lemme just look for that stupid, green book…”

As she scanned the living room and her room for the book, she realized that it’d actually been a while since she last touched the book. Let alone _seen_ the disgraced item.

And where was it last seen…?

Was it in school? No- she wouldn’t even take that chance of it being found by all the kids in school.

Wait- the last time she had it, she was in the computer room, in the library. A shudder of horror ran down her spine.

She left it in the library.

“Oh crap! I have to go all the way down to Bemesfeder real fast!”

Pidge quickly apologized to her mother, making sure to get the items later. Then she was out that door.

**

After countless minutes of trying to convince Hunk to drive Pidge down to the Bemesfeder library and countless minutes of convincing Hunk that she wasn’t going to go down to the “hood-and-gang-active” portion of the town, she had arrived at the library.

Instead of seeing Matt behind the librarian counter, she saw her skater classmate Rolo, reading a Marvel comic. She was out of luck and couldn’t ask her brother about where her diary is, so she gave it a shot to ask Rolo.

“Hey Rolo,” she greeted.

The bleached-blonde, tan man took his attention away from the comic and responded, “How’s it going, Pidge?”

“So um... there was a green, hideous, atrocious diary thing left in the computer room about a week ago, and I was just wondering if you remembered seeing such a thing? I really want to throw it away, ASAP,”

Rolo pondered for a moment but shrugged despairingly, “I’m sorry. I haven’t gone into that room in a month, that’s Nyma’s job. And I do not remember seeing your diary thing,”

Pidge blushed in embarrassment, “Well it’s not… MY diary, or whatever. Though that was implied...but alright. Thanks for the help,”

He nodded and returned back to his comic as she trudged off and continued with her search.

Pidge walked into the computer room, accompanied by a scattering of college kids and business men. She tried to walk around and peek around the vast area without looking like a creep (which wasn’t easy). However, even with such an area, there was absolutely nothing for her. But that had been the only room she remembered it last being seen.

Remembering the prior week’s evening precisely, she had a little pep talk with her brother about how “if she wanted to get better, then she had to start letting out what she’s been harboring in for the past 3 years on paper.” And, let’s just say it might’ve or might not have ended with Pidge nearly bursting into tears right on the spot. In anger or sadness; she can’t decide.

But she obliged and stayed in the room for the evening, writing half asleep and half assed. When she had been over it, she took a quick nap in the room; because that specific day had been a busy one. And once Pidge woke up an hour later by her brother, she did not see the book next to her. But it was not something she had thought about - until now, a week later.

She became anxious as to where the item may have been. Someone _must’ve_ taken it. And that idea alone horrifies her.

Pidge storms out the library, hoping that it had landed in the hands of someone she 95% expects to have or atleast _know_ where the diary went.

**

Pidge could’ve had the patience to knock, but she just had no time for that at the moment. So she barged in, with the spare key Matt had given her, and tried to find him.

“Matt. I’m in dire need of some assistance!”

She heard a gasp, along with a startled yelp.

… Two voices. Could it be the supposed lover?

Without much preface, she walked into her brother’s room, unprepared with what her eyes were about to witness,

“Hey Matt, I-oouOH MY GOD,”

And there was Matt. Absolutely naked on the bed (lower half covered with a pillow, thank god), along with a taller, more muscular man, desperately reaching for some covers. The horror on their faces were hysterical, but this was no laughing matter.

She couldn’t believe her eyes, shielding them from the disturbing image.

“WHY, MATT? Are you just _that_ bored in your day-to-day life? It’s only 4:45 PM!” Pidge exclaimed frantically.

“Katie. Get. _Out._ Of. My. ROOM,” He grumbled back to her, angrily.

She closed the door.

**

Ten minutes later, waiting rabidly in Matt’s pigsty living room, the bedroom door finally opened. Out came a half dressed Matt, with a shirt that was inside out, and his hair absolutely tangled and frizzed up. She almost felt bad for interrupting such a good time, but this was urgent, Pidge convinced herself.

Matt rubbed his eyes, and angrily sighed, “I swear, dad better be having a heart attack with how urgently you _walked into my room without knocking,”_

Pidge dismissively refuted, “More like me having a heart attack with all the news I’ve been getting this past hour. An _hour,_ Matt. Poor grandma wouldn’t be able to handle such trauma,”

He softened, “Look Katie. If me being attracted to males is something you’re uncomfortable and shocked by, then I completely understand and I’m so sorry,”

Evidently, Pidge could’ve cared less about the fact that Matt was dating a guy. No matter how well he thought he was hiding that “secret” (hah, that’s a good one), Pidge always knew and she never cared. She was more worried about the diary at the moment, and that’s what she really wanted to say. But her mind was so befuddled that all that came out was,

“Who even was that guy!?”

Then out followed the muscled stranger, who looked about only two inches taller than Matt, but was, nevertheless, very tall. The stranger bashfully responded,

“I’m Takashi Shirogane, but it’s easier just to call me Shiro,”

The muscled stranger named Shiro sat down on a recliner across from Pidge. Completely topless. Pectorals busting out. She even saw a prosthetic arm in replacement for a real one. Which Pidge thought was very cool. And Pidge briefly wanders how Matt got such a fit man to get under him.

“Well, where did you guys meet?” She questioned Shiro.

But Matt responded instead,

“The grocery store,”

Oh. So the one time he actually goes to the grocery store is to flirt with random strangers and end up naked in the bedroom in a matter of seconds. Pidge felt herself fuming by the second.

She commented accusingly, “Oh okay. So you just met this guy and immediately got it on with him?”

Matt narrowed his eyes at Pidge in anger, “No. Not at all. That’s not how love works, Pidge,”

Both Pidge and Shiro felt their own eyes widening; for different reasons. Shiro looked off to the side in a blushing manner while Pidge held a death grip onto the seat cushions, with a stream of anger ready to burst out,

“Love’s a veeeery strong word Matt,” Pidge started, “Such a strong word to assign to a guy you haven’t even known for a year. I don’t see you throwing that word around me!”

In complete shock, Matt froze but managed to let out, “Katie. Please. Don’t be outrageous-”

“No, Matt. It’s outrageous that I’m even having this rebuttal with you, that much is true. But to actually feel the need to compare the importance of me versus a guy… that’s not right. It hurts me that you didn’t even tell me about your boyfriend, let alone your sexuality. I bet you tell him all the secrets in the world because you love _him_.”

Pidge blinked away the tears, trying to remind herself of her purpose of coming,

“I just… came down to ask if you have my green diary. That’s all I want, then you guys can go back to loving or whatever,”

Matt wanted to calm her down. Wanted to show her that he truly did care and that he was truly sorry for how he had made her feel. But he’s learned from his past attempts that when Pidge’s wick is lit, she immediately becomes a forest fire. He knew that it was best to let her have her own time off, since it’d obviously been a long hour for her. So he replied as calm as he could,

“Pidge, I have no idea where your diary is. I’m sorry. Last time I saw it was when you were in the computer room last week,”

She sighed hopelessly, and got up to the door without further announcement.

**

When Pidge entered Hunk’s car, she tried to mask her previous heartbreak and looked up at Hunk with her best fake smile.

“So, how did you feel about that trip to Bemesfeder?”

Hunk shrugged and replied, “I mean, I’d rather, you know, not go into such a dangerous town ever again. But, I guess the trees were pretty. Super tall too,”

Pidge stretched, and landed her legs on top of his dashboard as she announced, “Well, you’re in luck Hunky. Because we’re going back to that library!”

He miserably groaned but obliged her request nevertheless. And she promised that she just needed an hour then she’d be right out.

**

It was now 6:30, after the hour long drive to the library. Hunk decided to just do his homework in the car as he patiently waited for Pidge.

She walked into the library, acutely aware that it was closing time, as she saw Nyma clearing around the building.

Nyma had a very intimidating aura to her at school. Constantly letting her blonde, french-braided pigtails flow about, distracting a lot of the boys and girls at school. And her being the MVP on their soccer team every year, reminding everyone just how succeedingly athletic she is. And her dating Rolo for two faithful years, constantly letting everyone know that her life is just perfect. Just the _perfect teenager,_ in Pidge’s eyes.

Knowing how perfect she was, Pidge was always intimidated by her; even though Nyma had no ill feelings toward her. Either way, Pidge walked up to Nyma in orderly fashion,

“Hey Nyma. I’m going to be here for a while, but I’ll promise to keep the lights low, so that it still looks closed. I’ve got the keys to lock up and everything,”

Nyma turned to Pidge, giggling in that flawless, chirpy voice of hers as she responded,

“Okay, Pidge. How long you think you’ll stay?”

Pidge pondered,

“Only for an hour,”

“Ooh, almost eight o’clock huh? Would you need a ride back then?” Nyma offered, almost chastising her for being too young to be out so late.

“It’s okay. I’ve got Hunk so,”

“Well if you do, me, Rolo, and some friends are just going to be down the street at that bar. I’m the designated driver tonight,” Nyma declared, pointing out the window.

Pidge briefly thought about how the two of them are not even 18 yet, but are still able to pass as an older looking couple. Either way, still on a mission to find her diary, Pidge waved a short goodbye as Nyma walked out the library.

She returned back to the computer room, making sure to thoroughly check through every desk and drawer.

Then she looked through the children’s book’s section, deciding best to even look through the bookshelves if needed.

Then she looked through the psychology/sociology section, briefly capturing the titles of books that sound interesting to her (she never realized how extensive this side of the library was).

Then she looked through the comic book section… then the fiction section… then behind Matt’s desk, incase he wanted to be nosy and read through her diary.

But it all ended with nothing. And Pidge was left there, by herself, in the back of the furthermost part of the library, just far enough so that no one would pass by outside and see her cry. Because she felt ready to burst in that moment.

Why? She doesn’t really know. It’s nothing specific. A lot of emotions and hurt were felt today, that’s for sure. But when the tears fell, (and they continued to fall) nothing specific in mind triggered it. It just sort of... happened. Just all of the emotions and stress built up and being unleashed, she guesses.

This has been happening a lot and Pidge has never really thought through why. She just lets it happen. She doesn’t sob or scream this time, however. She just sat on the beanbag chair, looked up at the ceiling, and sniffled as the tears streamed down with no halt.

When her eyes catch on to a familiar green spine in a bookshelf across from her, her sniffling ends then. A sheer emotion of excitement and happiness was felt for the first time today. She bolts up, right to the book and pulls it out of its residency. Never had she thought the sight of this atrocious, green book would make her so merry. But she was so happy, abnormally so. The last time she believed she was this happy was last Christmas.

Pidge had mixed feelings on whether she should burn it so that no one would ever have the displeasure of reading its contents, ever. Or if she should savor the long-awaited moment, just for a little bit. She chose the latter, but was planning on getting rid of it one way or another.

But before doing so, Pidge turned the pages, looking at the familiar writings made.

“Ah yes. Cornstarch and Broccoli. What a fond memory of my mom’s mushroom stew from last Wednesday,” Pidge momentarily fixated on.

Pidge flipped and flipped, feeling partially bad that this poor diary had to be thrown away all because of her poor choice of words and repentant sentences. The diary didn’t deserve it really, the world was so cruel and unfair. What had to be done, had to be done however.

When she finally landed on the last known written page, she cringed. She couldn’t even get past the word **Matt,** as that name leaves a bitter taste on her tongue. And the words itself on the page were a whole new level of cringe. She was then reminded, clearly, why this diary had to be rid of immediately. Absentmindedly, she turned to the next page, half-expecting some more writing on the back even though she-

Oh. What’s this?

“What the hell? This isn’t my handwriting. Holy crap,” Pidge freaked out to herself. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

The writing was in red pen, handwriting almost identical to that of a middle schooler's. Sad to say, she had no room to judge for such a matter.

Someone actually wrote in her diary. And it wasn’t a tag or a malicious message or anything. It was a reply of some sort. As if a reply was needed in her diary or anything.. (it was).

Pidge read with shaky caution.

**Hey.**

**It took me a while to think of what to write in here. About thirty minutes actually. I guess “Hey” is innocent enough. I hope it is. I don’t know why I’m writing this out on here. I really don’t know how to start any of these things. Because these things just don’t happen usually..?**

**“This” meaning someone randomly stumbling across a diary and writing some words of encouragement in them. Which if you’re mad that someone actually sat through and read the words you wrote in this diary, then I’m sorry. Really. I’m sincerely meaning that right now, and it’s hard to express that in writing without some sort of vocal tone indicating how I truly feel. But in general, I’m not the best with expressing how I really feel.**

**Well. Uh, wow. I don’t know why I just wrote that. This isn’t about me at all and I kind of want to scratch that out, but the deed’s been done and it’d look messy. That was very selfish of me, I’m so sorry.**

**I guess why I’m writing this in your diary is because I want you to know, nameless owner, that you are not alone. I hear you. I see you.**

**Well, I don’t. But I can see your pain and dilemma.**

**And I guess I don’t have to necessarily see you. Or know who you are. Or know what you look like. Maybe sometimes, it’s best not to know at all? Some things are better left unsaid and all that… or I guess unseen, in this scenario.**

**It’s really hard sometimes, when you feel like you have no one to turn to. When you’re surrounded by people that say that they’ll be there to listen to you. That they’re just one call away when you’re on the verge of breaking. That they’re there for you. But when it comes down to it, everyone turns a blind, ignorant eye and you’re left alone.**

**Yeah. That can be a big, fat joke sometimes. They usually never follow through.**

**And I guess I’m a hypocrite for saying such a thing. Look at what I’m doing now. I mean, how different am I from your family? I’m just an outsider of your circle of intimacy, I’m out of reach to you. More out of reach than an immediate family...**

**But, this is me, spilling my heart to you. I’m closer than you think, which is creepy coming from a stranger. And now that I actually think about this whole situation, I’m the only one who knows who I really am. And you, nameless owner, could be sitting there thinking, “Who does this thirty-year old, try-hard, jack-off think he is?”**

**Now, I can’t provide proof that I’m seventeen. But I am. And I’m assuming you’re around my age, as you wrote that you are a teen girl.**

**Oh, another thing. I’m not writing this, expecting some sort of phone number or a date or whatever. I only want to help you. If you’re willing to follow through with… whatever this is, please put this diary in the children’s section, slipped between the two books, “Ramona Quimby, Age 8” and “Ramona The Pest”. All under the author marked “B CLE.” And please remember to write back. With anything. Whatever that comes to mind that day. I can take it.**

**I’m here.**

Pidge almost thought she was dreaming once she reached the end of the book. Complete disbelief, is all she felt. It almost felt a little too convenient and surreal to be true.

She sat there reading the words over and over again, reading the words backwards, trying to find a secret code, even turning the actual diary upside down and trying to find an image embedded; desperately trying to find answers to this blatant joke that had appeared in front of her.

After her ridiculous maneuvering with the book, she finally came up with a single coherent sentence.

“What the fuck.”


	3. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO RELEASE THIS. I just moved and I am still getting adjusted to this new school system. So I've been struggling this whole month and haven't really had the time to write. But I'm back, and hopefully I'll be able to write atleast five chapters this winter break. I want to at least get to the Christmas part of this series BEFORE actual Christmas passes. We'll see how well I can do that... ENJOY! :')

_ 25th of November: _

  
On a boring afternoon, what else was there to do other than to wallow in the loneliness of one’s weary existence? Why, you can just fill that lonely void with the company of others; which Keith concluded was the solution to his miniscule snag.

He decided to give Shiro a surprise visit at his apartment since he had not seen Shiro lately. Initially, Keith had been in bed all day, not doing much of anything except finally getting around to reading those books about healing anger (gifted by Shiro on Keith’s birthday). And after four hours of Keith tiring his brain out, feeling drained of energy in his unadorned room, he had finally decided to go off and chat with Shiro for a little bit.

Closing the door behind him, Keith slipped out of his worn-out sneakers and placed the shoes in the shoe stand. As expected, Shiro’s living room (and most likely, all of his other rooms aswell) was spotless and nearly empty. The simplistic and clean trait was a necessary and prominent quality in the Shirogane family tree; Keith had learned fairly quickly upon moving into the Japanese household. He nevertheless appreciated Shiro’s way of living life simplistic, not crowding his living space with unnecessary junk.

Seconds later, Shiro walked out of the bathroom and nearly jumped out of his skeletons, as he did not hear Keith coming into the apartment and was surprised to see him at the entrance,

“Keith! Jeez. You have to let me know ahead of time before you just come walking into my apartment like that,”

He shrunk down a little at the reaction he hadn’t anticipated, but understood what Shiro had been getting at.

“I don’t have a phone. Remember?”

Shiro sighed but nodded in understanding,

“Well, either way, it’s nice to see you. It’s been a week since I last saw you. How’ve you been holding up?” Shiro asked as he went to the kitchen to prepare some mugicha for Keith.

Keith followed and briefly thought through what he wanted to bring up. He really wanted to tell Shiro about his unexplainable encounter with a certain green, reptilian-scaled diary; which he had decided to jot down a bit of his input inside, along with the somewhat premeditated paragraphs planted by the original owner.

That would surely be a doozy to explain, and Keith knew that Shiro wasn’t really looking for a documentary explanation at the moment. So he just went with his go-to response,

“Fine,”

Keith sat down on the kitchen stool and watched as Shiro poured the cold tea into his mug. He saw Shiro raise his eyebrow in skepticism, clearly knowing that Keith was not telling him something. But he presumingly brushed it off, by the way he continued on with his conversation,

“Well, as you may know, I went to see my boyfriend all of this week,”

Keith grabbed the cup from Shiro’s extended hand as he commented,

“As you should,”

Then Shiro looked off to the side, with an unsure expression,

“And I think he told me that he loved me yesterday…”

“Really?”

“Well not outright. But… well, his sister walked in on us…”

Keith clenched his teeth in second-hand embarrassment as he added,

“That’s rough,”

“Well thankfully she didn’t see… or hear… much of anything. But when she came in, she had angrily confronted him about some things. One thing led to another, and he sorta confessed his love for me,”

Keith sipped his tea and tried to think through how an argument could lead to something so unrelated. But he nodded in acknowledgement. And then Shiro continued on,

“Well. That’s about as far as my ‘major life moments’ go,”

Keith was then reminded of something he wanted to bring up to Shiro,

“I also have a major life moment to reveal,”

Shiro looked up at Keith, slightly anxious of what he was about to share,

“Stop looking at me like that. I didn’t kill anyone. I got fired,”

Shiro exhaled relievingly but wasn’t any less disappointed in Keith’s “major life moment”.

“Keith, you can’t just keep getting fired job after job. After you turn into an adult, real work truly crunches down on you. It becomes more than just a pastime. Real work requires dedication, respect, and loyalty.”

He gave Keith a pitiful look as he continued,

“Now I know you have all of that in you in that roomy heart of yours. You just dislike the authoritative aspect of working, which is something you _have_ to work on,”

Only half listening to Shiro, Keith got up, in preparation for his exit. He really hated when Shiro would chastise Keith, even for things that made sense; which, ironically, is the reason why Shiro is chastising him right now.

Keith answered stubbornly, “I only did this because I felt that work was getting in the way of my duty to support you,”

Shiro despairingly looked up at the ceiling, murmuring to an invisible observer, then looked back at Keith,

“We’ve already gone through this. There is no duty for you, Keith. Your sacrificed months of physical therapy, and helping out with simple chores, and giving me time to get used to this new arm has been of great assistance to my life. But I can’t keep eating away at your free time like this and I surely can’t be an obstacle of your actual duties. I’m more than capable to live on my own at this point in my life,”

Although deep down he knew Shiro was right, Keith’s mouth nevertheless twitched in slight irritation and anger,

“When you were in the hospital after your accident, I felt like my whole world was flipped on an axis. I kept thinking back to when the same thing happened ten years ago, and how it’s just going to keep happening over and over again. I didn’t want my life to be an endless cycle of just losing people and finding new people to lose. You mean so much to me, so of course I’d sacrifice my years of free time just to make sure you’re still breathing,”

A few beats of silence.

They shared a moment of sad looks and side-glances at the ground. Shiro clearly knew how much of an impact he had on Keith, and how his injury took a toll on not only him but everyone around him. That any time Keith left Shiro’s side, Keith thought that maybe he wasn’t going to see Shiro again. That in a mere second, his only center point in life was going to disappear.

But Shiro also realized that Keith was being a _bit_ dramatic. So he still pushed on, “Life’s not a straight path of events. There will be curves, diagonal lines, u-turns, and, some sooner than others, there will be an end to that line. Your life could be completely different tomorrow Keith from what it was today. And sometimes, those occurrences are just completely out of our control. So you can’t keep feeling obligated to making sure that something like that will never happen again,”

Shiro walked around the counter to Keith’s side and gave him a casual side hug, as he continued, “Don’t make me a burden on you any more than I already am. And don’t say I’m not because it’s pretty clear by your ability to work,”

Keith nodded and dully sympathized with what Shiro was saying at that moment.

Which is that he really needed to get a hold of his behavior and get a new job.

**

The next morning, Keith ventured out into the quiet city of Bemesfeder, once more. He had hoped that everything that the weatherman had declared was anything but false.

That even a professional, relied upon by the public, wouldn’t lower Keith’s expectations and trust much lower than it already had been.

However, to Keith’s despair, wet droplets of the Earth’s result of condensation conquered down onto him. Poring and pouring into the ground outside, watering all that was natural. And the event occurred a mere 15 minutes after he debated on whether he should even step outside today.

Keith sighed hopelessly.

He saw no point in turning back now, he was already twenty blocks away from his fosterparents’ apartment (without an umbrella, thanks to Keith’s lack of foresight); so he might as well enjoy the seldom meeting he had with the rain. It was not like rain had been a foe to him anyways. It can actually be quite nice on Keith, sometimes.

Stopping himself in the middle of the sidewalk, Keith allowed the wet pellets to melt into his skin and clothing. He tilted his head back, shut his eyes, and inhaled an attempted deep breath (swallowing fish’s pee as he did).

Then exhaled, very loudly, as he announced to the empty streets, “I’m so bored,”

Recounting his encounter with his now ex-boss (and thinking through what Shiro had said to him the night before) allowed him to realize some of the errors he had made and what he could’ve been done to fix those errors. It’s arguable that, at times of instant reaction, Keith had no recognition of the word, “foresight”. He can be quite impulsive sometimes... he guessed. But there was obviously a good reason for it. For Keith, animal instincts was the body’s way of saying, “HEY. THIS IS RIGHT,”

And the body must know more than Keith for it to emit such a rash and astute response; unquestioning and all-knowing. How else are animals able to survive in such harsh and unbelievable living circumstances? Instincts.

And what does Keith do? He does the first thing his body absolutely wishes.

So if his mouth thought it was a good idea to curse at that customer for teasing Keith and saying that he looks like a try-hard, knock-off version of Gerard Way (whoever that is), then he’ll comply with his mouth and ignore any potential consequence.

Looking back at such actions, Keith easily decided that that probably wasn’t the smartest of choices, considering he’d lost his previous pastime because of it. He was now burrowed in his hole of a home, everyday, with nothing to do but to read and do school work. Thus, he was bored out of his mind a lot more often.

So realistically, there was no real reason for Keith to be outside today. His homeschool classes didn’t require him to be out and about, and he had no job to attend to, and Shiro didn’t ask for anything from the store today….

He was outside just because…. well, why not? It’s never a bad idea to step out and take in the scenery and the clear air of such empty streets. Sure, being outside in the pouring rain without an umbrella probably wasn’t the best idea in the books. But again: foresight. What the heck is that anyways?

Despite all this, there was actually a hidden motive on why Keith had dared to step outside in the questionably rainy day; a motive that he was denial of even thinking because he didn’t want to feel like a loser, hoping for something that would probably never come.

Which was to check the library to see if a response was given to his previous writings in the not-yet-forsaken diary.

Keith could’ve denied all he wanted, but he was (no doubt) nervous about the response he would receive from his attempt at a friendship (not his fault he gets lonely). From a bird’s eye view, the action that Keith had committed was an utterly stupid one. And he had beat himself up all week about it; debating on whether he should just dispose of the book before the owner even saw it.

Or even worse: opening the diary and seeing a page with a short response written, “No”.

Somewhere in his overpowering animal instincts, it called, screamed, nearly _begged_ for Keith to undo his mistakes and just save himself from any further embarrassment. Because, indeed: it was a stupid idea from the start.

But he didn’t do that.

Instead, he had checked up on the status of the diary’s residence two times. Both times, he observed that it still sat in between the two brown books; which he slid in between.

So, Keith made another deal to himself: if, for this final check-up (third time's a charm), the diary is not in the children’s section like he had requested, then he’ll just do everyone a favor and get rid of the artifact.

There was a great chance that the original owner was sincerely planning on never using the diary again and had no further intentions on finding it (Clearly, if the owner hadn’t come back to retrieve the diary by now) .

It was a Saturday, which made it an exact week since he dared writing in the book. And it was the last day that he’ll even bother trying, he decided.

“Hey! Wait up!”

a sudden, aggressive voice disrupting his train of thought called out from behind him; Unquestionably called towards him since he was the only individual on the sidewalk.

But of course, the day couldn’t have been left off as crappy with just a rainy gloom. No, there had to be a confrontation with an unrecognizable stranger to be made in the middle of the streets, which Keith then observed was in the more sketchy side of the town. Making his day, just that more crummy. His instincts were then heightened on a hill and he was now solely reliant on his jujitsu skills (the one time he forgets his knife…).

Keith felt a hand on his shoulder but before the the hand could even tighten its grip, Keith reached back to the arm and pulled it down forward. Once the body was thrown onto the ground in front of him, he barely recognized the face of the offender.

But he knew for a fact that it was an old classmate of his from the time when he attended public school.

The acquaintance painfully cried out, “AGH, KEEEITH! My arm! Let go! That hurts,”

Keith knew that this person was a man, but the way his voice pitched up ridiculously high made him sound more feminine (which he found a bit amusing). So he released the struggling arm and allowed the teen to properly squirm in pain.

He spewed out to the pained victim, “Who are you,”

The victim widened his eyes in horror, then screeched, again in an even higher pitch, “What do you mean, ‘Who are you’?! I was in literally all of your classes sophomore year! It’s LANCE,”

Oh, right. The name vaguely clicks.

“Well for whatever you need me for, can we talk under some shade. Not in this rain,”

The classmate named Lance, groaned painfully then replied, “Yeah, yeah. Once my arm returns back into it’s socket instead of being in my sternum,”

**

The duo had decided on talking inside of some shady cafe across the street. Their clothes were dripping from their head to their toes, flooding the floors of the shop and annoying employees of their apathy.

Both of them chose to just order a small (but not small enough) sized iced tea for the time being, as Keith had expected the meeting to be brief. But then again, he had no idea what this stranger had to discuss. He didn't even know this guy's last name, and Keith wasn’t familiar with how much of a rambly person he could be.

And if there was something he despised (besides Christmas), it'd be rambly people who never get to their point.  
Beating around the bush, making boring small talk, and off-topic tangents are just a small percentage of the things he hates about rambly people. Being straightforward was always his motto in life, though sometimes that didn’t win over the best of friends.

Either way, Keith would rather not spend an hour talking about nothing with a stranger who Keith was still no doubt a little skeptical of. So if he’s going to have to hurt some feelings in the process of leaving pronto, then so be it.

And thankfully, Lance seemed like the type of person who could be straightforward.

However, he had a concerning lack of tact. Because the millisecond the two finally settled down into their seats, Lance spilled out an unanticipated sentence onto Keith,

“So, I heard you were dating Allura Nealta at one point?”

Keith was speechless and caught off-guard by the sudden topic of discussion of his ex-girlfriend. A topic that he felt was more prevalent about a year ago. He chose to be short with his responses as he would rather not endure on anything from the past,

“She’s my ex,”

Lance squinted his eyes as he sipped into drink,

“Just curious, but why’d you guys end things? If you don’t mind me asking,”

Keith minded, just a little bit. The separation hadn’t been a bad one, nor was it a good one either. It was pretty much neutral. And he didn’t know how to properly explain to Lance the reason of their break-up, even if he seriously wanted to. So he guessed a vague answer is as good as an extensive answer,

“I don’t know… we just weren’t… meant for each other,”

Keith shrugged. Lance squinted even more. It clearly wasn’t doing it for Lance, so Keith guessed that adding even more vague sentences on top of each other would do the trick,

“We were just two totally different people. Nothing about us seemed to make sense, as to why we were together that is. She was more exact and demanding in what she wanted. I sort of just… went along with the flow; which she was always annoyed about. And she was moving back to the England around last winter so I kind of just… thought it was best if we had split at that point. And she thought it was mutual,”

Once he finished his explanation, he felt himself clench in annoyance; at himself. Keith hated it when he made up excuses for himself. But, in a way it was all undeniably true.

When Allura had asked Keith out on a date, he agreed to go just for the sake of it. And ever since that date, the two would go on many other frequent dates. And unconsciously became a thing.

Or at least, Keith and everyone else perceived it as so.

As the weeks would go on, the two paid less and less attention to each other. Their initial spark and excitement immediately died.

Whenever the two would plan dates with each other, it almost felt like a chore. The two would talk about school, their opinions on world events, and sometimes they’d touch up on their families; or Allura would anyways. Sometimes they would kiss and make-out… and do other things along the side.

But at the end of the day, when Keith would think about Allura and whether he loved her or not, he was sad to say that he didn’t. Of course, she was absolutely beautiful, and was a top-rank honors student, and had an appealingly dominant personality, and was set in what she wanted in life, and even had 4 pet mice which Keith thought was very unique. Almost everything Keith would’ve checked in the criteria of what he found attractive in a woman.

So what went wrong? Keith had no clue.

He simply concluded that it was all him that was in the fault. And it made him question whether he could ever really love someone past platonic. That if there was ever the perfect girl out there, would he take the chance and show his full on love and appreciation for the person. Indeed, Keith did all that he could to make Allura happy, but he found little satisfaction in doing so. It wasn’t as fulfilling as helping an old lady cross the street, or helping an infant, lost in a grocery store, find their parents.

Little things like opening the door for her, asking about her day, and buying her food were all things that left an unsatisfactory void in his heart. He didn't feel like he wasn't doing much of anything for her, emotionally. Like a real significant other would, he supposed.

Making a significant other happy sort of just felt like… whatever to Keith.

He even had little flings in the past that were not even worth remembering; guys and girls. But at the end of the day, it was all the same. And he was scared that if there was ever anyone out there for him, that he would screw everything up and ruin the relationship because he was unable to keep anyone around him for more than ten seconds.

Either way, Keith had explained the general gist to Lance as well as he could; which was assumingly enough for Lance. But he was confused on why he had asked about Keith’s lovelife in the first place. Then Lance opened his mouth,

“Now, I know that was a pretty random question. But Allura moved back to New York last week and she was trying to contact you. So I was just finding you for her since you have, like, zero online presence,”

Keith raised an eyebrow and asked,

“But why did you wanna know about our past relationship?”

Lance looked as if he just got caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar, and sputtered on with a blush,

“W-well after school when she came up and asked me about you, she looked a little… sad, I guess? Like she almost felt bad for asking such a thing, that it made me wonder, ‘What did this shallow dropout of a toughie do to such an inexplicably gorgeous woman to make her look so sad?’ but I-I mean, yeah. I don’t know man, she just really wants to talk to you,”

Keith wondered why she might’ve been heartbroken about anything. He didn’t remember saying anything to her recently, and the last thing he’d said/done to her was give her a firm hug and said goodbye to her as she walked through security checks in the airport.

Regardless, Keith wrote down his parent’s phone number on a damp receipt from his soaked wallet for Lance to give to Allura and they both said their unheeding goodbyes.

**

After the rain had finally stopped, still dripping from his hoodie, he walked into the Bemesfeder Library and dashed straight towards the nonfiction section. He mentally laid out a solid plan on what he would do with the diary when he saw it.

He’s thought about riding his bike to the landfill in the southernmost part of the state so that he can maybe just throw it in there. Or maybe even burning it has been an idea that has passed by his conscious an embarrassing number of times. However, he really liked the Earth and he was not going to feed into his peculiar interest with fire by harming the Earth.  
Keith also pretended that he didn’t wish deep down for the stranger to write back to him. 

However, when he turned to that familiar corner of the section, he did not see the book’s distinct spine anywhere.

And he was mildly confused.

Mildly worried.

Mildly excited.

But he was mostly confused.

Thoughts that have never occurred to him before that moment finally surfaced out of nowhere.

_Shit. What if someone accidentally checked the book out and now that green diary is in the hands of some random person,_

Keith frantically rushed over to the children’s section to double check, anxiety shooting up by millisecond. But it thankfully dissipated once he saw that the reptilian-scaled book was seen in its proper place. The place that he had specifically asked to be seated in last week; between the two Ramona Quimby books.

Without much thought, he opened the book and turned past his written response, feeling relieved as to seeing four pages filled with new words, written in green ink.

**Alright.**

**Hello there… fellow… reader. I wasn’t really expecting an audience here, so I unfortunately came a bit unprepared.**

**No seriously, I wasn’t anticipating this. I really don’t know what to say! It’s as if someone had told me a year before my birthday that they were going to get me a brand new bike, and they reveal me every month with different specifics of the bike. And when it finally comes down to it..**

**I get a car (A Mercedes-AMG GLC43 4MATIC / GLC63 4MATIC to be exact. With the blind spot sensor and crosswind assist electronic stability control).**

**And to my surprise, I’m a little caught off guard yet, I’m not mad. In fact, I’m left there thinking, “So, what’s the catch?” Because it’s just so hard to believe, and I can’t even grasp the reality?**

**Well anyways, I get a little off-topic, sometimes. But I just find this to be quite the fascination. You’re right, these things just don’t happen often. But… you’ve done it… sir…. m’am… sirm’am? You made this happen, and it’s happening!**

**I don’t even know if an introduction is needed since you’ve already had a little sliver of my inner-most personality from the first few pages. (Not the grocery lists. I’m not much of a cook, despite my first paragraphs talking about food).**

**A part of me wants to just tell you my birth name, like a proper person. But another part of me wants to go by a pseudonym, like O’Henry. I’ve always wanted to have one of those. My real name is just so boring and plain. So you can just call me, Pidge! Few people in my life call me that. It can be considered a pseudonym since it’s not my real name. But yes, please address me as that from now on.**

The name Pidge was one that Keith had never heard of before then. In some strange way however, the name sounded sort of appealing and pretty intriguing in his brain. It didn’t sound like it was short for anything nor was it close to any other normal name out there. It made her all the more mysterious.

And he liked it.

Not the average name heard around the world, so his slight interest in this Pidge grew once more.

(And he had to agree that having an alias sounds like it would make for fun conversations).

**Let’s see, what else… oh. Well, something that wasn’t fun was this whole entire day. I swear it was just pile after pile of bad news. The weight of my vexation was nearly sinking into the concrete ground in the span of three hours. That’s ought a break some records somewhere.**

**I’m pretty sure I’m reaching that despicable point of rock-bottom again. I just don’t even know where to start, but I guess I’ll just write about my parents.**

**As you and the northern hemisphere may know, it’s Christmas in a few weeks. And as many people may agree with, Christmas is a special day for people to bond with their families and show their appreciations for each other with satisfactory dishes and charitable presents!**

Keith begged to differ.

**But my parents are leaving for the UK for a “mandatory mission”, or whatever, to miss the seasonal occasion! You know what else is a mandatory mission, mom? Making sure that your daughter’s favorite time of the year is spent in the best way possible since she’s been suffering in an undeniably depressive state the past year, and she could very much use one good day out of the other 364 bad ones.**

**I’ll admit, I can be a bit bratty sometimes. But it’s almost universally known to the planet that Christmas is spent with immediate family and good food! Not distant uncles and annoying conversations. Ugh. It’s just going to be a tough month to get through that I know is just going to get worse...**

**...but I’m sure I’ll have you to help me through it.**

**Weird enough, I finally stopped crying, and writing out my feelings is actually starting to disencumber my heart. So thanks, for this...**

**Geez. Where are my manners!? I actually think you should write some stuff down in here too, you know, about your life (only if you want). I get that this is my journal and technically my problems being laid out, but I feel that you should have a say as well. But like you said in the last diary entry, if sharing a piece of yourself to me is stepping over the boundaries of these anonymous “therapy sessions”, then I understand.**

**But you know, it’s the least I could do! We all have our burdens.**

**I just feel that we should make it a mutual thing so that it doesn’t just feel like me talking someone’s ear off. It doesn’t even have to be a therapy session. We could just be regular friends, having regular conversations...**

**..well, anyways. You have finally reached the conclusion of this diary entry. But I have a favor for you to do, and it’s going to be a lot more extensive than placing this diary in some random section in the library. I’ll have you go on a little mission for me, instead. Just to make this a bit more... intricate...**

And as he read over the following instructions Pidge gave to him, a rueful pang of regret struck Keith’s temper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, I very much ship Kallura. I'm not a Kallura basher but in this series... it's going to be a NOTP dynamic (this one time.. *sniffles*). I hope you enjoyed (': Pls look forward to another update hopefully SOON. If you wanna chat about anything or just wanna check up on the progress, you can hit me up on instagram @shirolovesmebaby.


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